


Of Wands, Bonds and the Dead of Winter

by aireagoir



Category: Captain America (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Magic, Dark Magic, Explicit Consent, M/M, lovemaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 15:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7689619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aireagoir/pseuds/aireagoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dear Readers,<br/>I recently read a summary of fandoms which said many fanfic authors hesitate to write fiction with an a/b/o dynamic because they must, by nature, include lots of dub/con sex and raging animal hormones. Furthermore, it was "always" a triggering topic and was "hated with a passion" by many readers for that reason.<br/>You know what?<br/>I say that's bullshit. We, as both the authors and the readers, have agency! It's possible to write a story with an a/b/o dynamic and have it be legitimate, entertaining, and utterly without dubious consent. If people WANT to write pieces with lots of dub/con sex and animal characteristics, well, that's their right. That's what tagging is for. It's ALL our right to read it or not.<br/>I put this here because I'm proud to be a writer and reader that takes responsibility for my actions. I decide. I determine the content, context and form of my story. Whether I write it IRL to be published or write it for fun here...it's mine. I stand by every word. If Peggy will please forgive me, I am a writer and reader who knows her value.<br/>I celebrate choice, and if I want to mix Bucky and Prof. McGonagall in an a/b/o world, then LET'S DO THIS THING.</p><p>********</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Wands, Bonds and the Dead of Winter

The Winter Soldier is on automatic pilot. He switches DC Metro trains four times, gets off at Farragut North, then blends in with the tourists. Popular misconception has it that you should put on a loud shirt, cargo short and tennis shoes, then you’ll be the stereotypical American tourist. _Soldat,_ as he sometimes thinks of himself without meaning to, sees three obvious holes in that disguise; one, he is not overweight. These clothing choices would immediately stand out as a costume on an extremely fit man who looks 25. Number two, if you look American, people are more likely to talk to you because Americans (Midwesterners for damn certain) will invade your space and talk about absolutely nothing just because they can. Americans LOVE swapping tourism stories with any English speakers they can get their hands on. Finally, Americans who believe they are approaching another American will automatically try to scent you a little. They want to know where everybody stands right away. If they smell him, everyone will know. Within minutes, the rumor will pass through the grapevine of English speakers the same as if he were a TV star.

This is why he had stayed at the Urban Oasis hostel in New York last month. He cruised around tourism sites until he found a group of Italians with two men approximately his size. It was easy to follow them back to the hostel and confirm their room. The next morning he picked the lock and chose three shirts, two pairs of jeans, a Baigio backpack and a pair of sunglasses. He left $450.00 and four tickets to a Mets game dated two days from then.

The Winter Soldier took whatever he needed and never looked back. Bucky Barnes, when he was…present, would not do this at all. Soldat had an enormous cache of unregistered weapons, cash, passports and other things he was happy to take off of Hydra’s hands. It allowed him to pay for what he appropriated.

In Farragut Square, he was invisible. With his Italian clothing, Euro-hip sunglasses slid into hair thrown up as a carelessly perfect bun, nobody saw the Soldier. He had carefully preserved the clothing in plastic so each scent was further mingled with his own; a riot of excitement, contented alpha, red wine, saltwater, and hint of slick from the jeans.

After an hour went by, the Winter Soldier stopped beyond the Vietnam Memorial. He liked it very much. The people who died were real. They were named. The ones who came back could see the others who came back. It was clear they had been in the war, and could choose (or not) to help a fellow soldier through it all while they looked at names.

Soldat reminded himself he could see the memorial of his original war if he wanted. He wanted. Too much. So he didn’t.

At last, a very dignified, elderly woman seemed to materialize in the corner of his vision. Soldat instinctively swept his eyes back and forth on the horizon, then pretending to “crack” his back to get a 360 view. He was watching one man carefully, a man that had been at the Wall for longer than seemed likely. However, he had placed his hand on a particular name and cried for about ten minutes, as a woman waited respectfully in the distance. If it was a cover it was a very good one. They genuinely read as a man and his wife grieving at the memorial, Soldat picked up a distinct vibe in the posture that suggested a brother, maybe childhood best friend.

Grieving. Openly. For your childhood best friend, a man your mind, heart and nose automatically scanned for every single day. When you are sick, when you are hurt, when losing him is the worst. The unbearable heavy feeling settling into his stomach as the man would be the right height, or maybe have the same hair. The smell was never right. His nose forced his eyes to accept the truth and yet he never quit. He was certain the last thing he’d do before dying was sniff for a hint of Lifebuoy soap.

The elderly woman, her warm white hair in a face-framing bun, gestured to the bench with her cane. She spoke with a beautiful whisper of sound that immediately prompted the Winter Soldier to download a briefing:

 _Falsworth, James Montgomery. AKA Lord Falsworth, Major Falsworth. British citizen seconded to US Army, 107 th, see also _Howling Commandos _.  6’1, approximately 109 kilograms. Status: deceased._

She sat, deliberately swaying towards him momentarily. The innocuous stumble allowed them to scent each other without the embarrassment of baring the neck. Ordinarily two alphas wouldn’t need to be that close. There was nothing ordinary in the slightest about this meeting.

He put out his right arm to balance her and conceal the wand she discreetly removed from her sweater. In an instant he could see the shimmer of potent cloaking spells. The invisibility charms were so strong he could see waves of the other people reflected back to him as though they were underwater.

They waited until the spells had erected a powerful, protective wall, then,

“Oh, oh, James! It is you! Oh, Uncle James! My God, Uncle James!”

Soldat receded as Bucky threw his arms around the woman. “Minnie, Minnie, Minnie,” his head bowed, his laughing, sobbing face tucked into her neck. “Oh, baby Minnie! It’s you! I was terrified I wouldn’t know for sure but I do!”

Now that they didn’t need magic to conceal their scents, both of them radiated a powerful undertone of treacle tarts and alpha genetics bred through the same wizarding line. Nobody in his war had known that Lord Falsworth had been brought up in the Muggle world when his biological family understood the heartbreaking truth; he was a “squib” (Bucky loathed that uncouth term) and a beta. He had no magical capabilities whatsoever. This, combined with his beta status, could have left Major Falsworth very vulnerable in some English wizard communities with dangerous, extreme visions of a world run by wizard dominance with no room for “weaklings.” Despite Falsworth’s sadness, he did take pride in his biological family’s accomplishments. He had been excited to learn his young niece (“By far his favorite,” she said with a sparkling laugh) was destined for greatness. Falsworth took all of the HCs to meet his family, and little Minnie was terribly impressed her Uncle Falsworth knew so many important men. Uncle Dum Dum used to give her rides on his shoulders. Years later, the first time she had soared on a broom, Minerva McGonagall swore she could smell Uncle Dum Dum’s protective scent carrying her on the wind.

The moment Major Falsworth had met Sergeant Barnes, they could smell the unmistakable comfort of the biological pack. It didn’t take long to figure out that Falsworth’s biological mother was related to Barnes’ mother by blood, going back several generations when powerful wizard families left England in search of adventure. Their tie had been a crucial part of the success of the Howling Commandos. For starters, Falsworth could detect his scent long before others could, which was common to roughly half of all Muggles with genetic ties with a wizarding family. Plus, the HCs had their own dynamics; to a man, they were comforted when they could smell the warm and slightly sweet pheromones biological pack mates automatically generate. The last tremendous advantage was that Falsworth, the perfect beta, always fell in line right behind Barnes as alpha. Barnes didn’t need to constantly reassert his dominance. Well, until, _him_. Steve had been remade by what he thought was science. Bucky and Falsworth had many conversations about the nature of that “science.” They both smelled magic. Powerful magic, magic that could reform an omega into a man that seemed to be an alpha.

Minerva picked up a hankie and they shared watery smiles while she dabbed at her nose. They were still touching arms and breathing in the smell of family. Security. Protection. Acceptance. Bucky was so scared he had lost that _forever_. It was yet another forever that made it much easier to be Soldat than Bucky. He took a deep breath and asked the worst.

“Minnie, can you smell…?” It hurt so much he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. He felt himself drawn into her arms as he cried.

“Uncle James, I could never have pictured one day I’d be an old witch, holding you in my arms, still that handsome young soldier that brought me lemon sweets. How could I? For that matter, how could anybody?” She laughed, not unkindly. “James, I’m not sure what all I can smell, because you’ve been using every trick in the book to mask, haven’t you.” There wasn’t a question in her voice. “Do you know if any of your scent suppression is of your own doing?”

He thought carefully, then started, “I don’t think it is. Ma watched us real close for signs of magic. Magic was like…uh, like a dance I couldn’t be taught. I felt it around me, in me, I could see other people do it, but when I tried I had two left feet.”

“Do I remember that your sister had some abilities?”

“Yeah, Becca did. Ma wanted to see if we could get her over to you lot, to get trained up. Then my father, uh, he began to hit Ma if she even brought it up. Since ma was omega she didn’t have much in the way of rights or legal protection. Ma hadn’t had any magical ability, that’s why she was fine with marrying a Muggle and carrying on like other folks do. Lord, Becca being a magical omega…it shocked us all. Ma and I spent all our free time worrying she’d get hurt something terrible after her first heat.

“Ma always used to say that Becca could have the world at her feet if we could get her trained up and all. After they were told I was dead, Ma used the insurance money to send her to a closer school. It was right over the Canadian border, they took all the Americans since that bastard, uh, pardon my language,” he was rewarded with a gentle laugh, “President Buchanan, outlawed all magic and forcibly detained anyone showing ability.”

There was a notable silence.

“Yeah, my pa named me after him. On purpose.”

Minerva shivered. In the normal course of human events age dictated she couldn’t have helped James. She had been only nine years old when she knew James. But Becca, who was younger, if only they had known. Her parents would have been more than happy to be a foster family for a talented young witch, especially one as vulnerable as Rebecca.

“James,” she started with a fond squeeze on his arms, “there are several things I need to learn from you if I can be of any assistance whatsoever. I’m in suite four at the Hay-Adams hotel. Could we meet there in half an hour?”

“Yeah, Minnie. As long as we’re parting company, could I ask if, maybe it’s rude, but, is it true? I mean, could I see you as a cat?” Minerva smiled indulgently.

“Of course, dear.”

She stood up, and as the tip of her cane began to dissolve the magic protecting them, she passed through a shimmering cloud of spells.

Then gave a soft purr at James’ face as she walked quietly towards Lafayette Square.

Soldat pulsated, wanting to re-emerge, but Bucky had a smile on his face and some quiet in his heart. Bucky to Soldat to stuff it.

**

An hour and three cups of tea later, Minnie pulled out a variety of things from her carrying case. She spoke as she arranged them. In the corner a tiny owl hooted softly from a luxurious cage. James had gotten out of the clothing he had used to mask his scent. He was covered in an obscenely plush robe that had “The Hay-Adams” in gold thread over a pocket. It was the first time in quite a few days he didn’t need to mask the smell of “alpha who has been in cryo.” It was a freezer burn smell that other alphas immediately wanted to obliterate, since he smelled…not fully human. Unmasked, he was a war cry to most alphas in the DC Metro area.

“James, please know I won’t do anything without warning or consent. Be that as it may, I have already sensed powerful and, sadly, skilled Dark Arts magic inside of you. I’m afraid this could be unbearable for you.”

Bucky could smell his own anxiety when he replied, “I’m afraid of hurting you, but I know your magic can offer you protection Muggles don’t get. Would it be strong enough to protect you if I accidentally become the Winter Soldier?”

Minerva considered her Uncle James, her Uncle James now 99 years old yet in the prime of his life. His handsome face, his beautiful hair. For just a moment in time, she became that little girl so terribly impressed again.

She knew he would relax if she produced proof of her skill. Without her wand, she silently cast a beautiful _Alarte Ascendare._ Bucky shot up into the ceiling so hard he felt ceiling plaster push into his scalp. In three seconds he was laughing hysterically. “Okay, I remember now why we never, ever underestimated you. Seven grown men and one incredible dame, walking ‘round on eggshells before we could make mini-Minnie angry!”

She, too, was laughing. She brought him back down and her face turned a beautiful shade of pink and corrected, “Six men, one woman. One never needed to worry I'd go easy on him! I think they all figured it out, but I was so little it was cute, I suppose.”

“What figured out?”

“Oh, heaven help me, I had the worst puppy love for that Jim Morita. He was a kind man and never made fun of me. He once brought me a flower, and said he’d make sure when he got married to his best girl back in Fresno I could be the flower girl. Quite compassionate, don’t you think?” Her wistful smile reminded him of his own. One of the best things about the Howlies was their smell. People have always talked about battlefield friendship, how quickly your unit becomes the family you would die for. The Howlies were an extraordinary example of that, but not just for the bond they felt. As a pack, the Howlies had developed their own undercurrent of scent; each man (Peggy wasn’t often in the field and therefore not synchronized) still smelled of his essential body, plus a faint mixture of Lucky Strikes and the leaves of the evergreen cork oak trees that they saw so many of before. Before. Dammit. This hurt.

“Minnie, do I still smell like a Howlie to you?”

“Oh heavens, yes. Uncle Falsworth smelled so much like those trees when he missed you men, he said they were all over Italy. Now, James, shall we get to the heart of what you’re really asking?”

“I guess. It’s scary.”

“It must be. I can hardly imagine. But, if you would please lay with your arms to the sides, I’m going to smell your neck now, and then afterwards we have a little chat. Please don’t nip at me, if you can at all help yourself, dear.” Minerva leaned in and delicately smelled his scent. She murmured a few words in Latin he couldn’t understand. When she was this close, he could see the remnants of a bond mark. It wasn’t like any bond mark he had ever seen. It looked less…intense?

She sniffed the air around his neck, and again at his wrists.

“Well then, James. Let’s not play coy, I can certainly smell someone that comes to the front when I press your bond mark. You did bond, didn’t you?”

Bucky’s throat wouldn’t work right. He couldn’t believe it was still there. After all this time, and the serum, and, and, everything. He started to whine a little, wanting to curl up like a pup. He nodded and whispered, “I thought we had. I was sure we had. I loved him more than anyone I had ever known, or will know.” He could feel the tears running off his face into the pillow. “Did you smell charcoal drawing pencils?”

“My dear, we never smell a bond mate the way the two people in the bond smell them. When I pressed your bond mark I had a powerful scent of a male omega and a hint of a pleasant soap.”

“Oh my God, it’s still there! That’s Stevie’s Lifebuoy soap. All the ads said it promoted great health. We spent four cents more per bar, mostly so we could complain what terrible liars they were!” Bucky was so damn relieved. He hadn’t been wrong. Sometimes, after the resets and wipes, he was sure the fragile boy who became a titan wasn’t real. He had so many memories of them together. Then, he also had memories of being personally decorated by Stalin. Who knew what he had honestly done?

Minnie’s voice was disconcerting in its empathy. “James, I also smell…another. I smell another alpha. This shouldn’t be possible except through the very darkest of all magic. Is this why you have not been reunited with your Stevie?”

Without warning James sat upright. Minerva silently cast a light protective charm. She could reach through it to him, but he would not be able to reach through to touch her. It was horrifying to see his eyes go blank, his face pale with shame. She understood in a heartbeat. Without speaking, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder and waited until his eyes were angled towards hers.

“This bond was done against your will, wasn’t it.” Again, her questions that are really statements. “This is why you and Captain Rogers cannot be reunited, unless I am very much mistaken. When you fought, he could see you but you smelled of another. He sensed you were bonded to another. Is this what caused so much hurt for both of you?”

Now James was whimpering loudly, and a rare smell indeed was emanating from him. It was _hurt alpha_. For an alpha to admit this was either a sign of great trust or great desperation. Minerva wished with all her being it might not be both. She was a practical woman and not given to flights of fancy. It was both. Perhaps extracting the memory would be kinder than asking him to relive it.

“Uncle James, come back to me. Come back.” She reached towards Bucky with her hands, knowing her pulse points at the wrist were emanating everything he couldn’t supply for himself at the moment; the scent of family, familiarity, comfort, pack. His eyes focused again. She tried to lighten the moment.

“Well good Lord, James, let us not do _that_ again, shall we not? Now then. I’m going to extract a brief memory from you and examine it in the little bowl I have here. You can’t do it with me, dear, but I can promise you it won’t hurt at all and you’ll feel a little better. Do you grant me leave to do this?”

He nodded, and quietly laid back down. Minnie got her wand, then removed the protective spell, so that he would not feel rejected should he try to touch her now that he had calmed. She took a moment to swipe the bond mark at his neck and use the tip of her wand to sort through the strands of odor. She selected the soap and whisked it into the air. His entire body unclenched as the smell he craved washed over the bed. He closed his eyes and gently rubbed his hands across his thighs. It was a primal need to touch the man who gave that smell. She used this distraction to put the tip of her wand to his head and extract the memory. It was simple to do; it was one of the few that had the mark of recent dark magic. She could see horrible, aborted attempts to warp his mind and soul; dark magic wielded by amateurs, blunt spells trying to tear him apart and remake his mind to conform and comply. It was a horror show of fragmented black spells.

She spooled it from his mind and then placed it in the Pensieve. For the first time since the Battle of Hogwarts she felt herself trying not to bow under terrifying forces of evil. She could see the man that had done this, the politician Alexander Pierce. He was standing over James as James was coming out of a horrifying creation that looked like a chamber of ice. She had heard rumors this was how he had remained young while she had progressed through life in England.

Without coming out of the memory, she flicked her wand with a beautiful flourish at the end. In seconds she was rewarded with the sound of his easy breathing, then thin, contented snores. She cast another concealment charm, making certain she’d have privacy while she looked through the rest of the memory. It was unpleasant to watch, but she reminded herself she was only watching. Think of poor James, who had lived it. She watched Pierce’s staff use Muggle means to defrost the Winter Soldier (that poor man was not James. He was _not_ James. He was _never_ James, she told herself. He was a victim of the worst wizard tyrants of an age). Then Pierce dismissed the staff. From James’ point of view in the memory, it was as though Pierce was leaning in to kiss him. Then, an extraordinary pain as the alpha’s teeth went into his glands. It must have been excruciating, to be marked using magic over the Muggle bonding mark made by his chosen mate.

Minerva pulled herself out of the Pensieve, and cried angry, bitter tears. Her fingers rubbed over her own bond mark. She cried more, then got up and washed her face. The time had come to help.

She placed her hand on his shoulder and gave him a few pats. He awoke then sat up and looked her in the eye. “Uncle James, I have seen what we were looking for. We were right, the reason you have been cut off from your chosen mate is that magic was used to forcibly bond you to another. I’m not going to try to remove everything, because I don’t know what it would take with it. Pierce was trained by the same wizard that took over in Europe after the death of Gellert Grindelwald.” She felt a pang in her neck and covered it with her hand. “The man that I was bonded to was my platonic soulmate. He was the greatest wizard of our time, and he tried to protect the young man who could battle Grindelwald’s protégé.”

Bucky was lost. “You mean there’s a powerful wizard now, more powerful than you?”

“Oh no, dear, he’s too young. But yes, Harry Potter will someday be the most powerful of our kind. Albus, my bond mate, loved the man who became the wizard that helped Hydra. Helped Hydra and Adolf Hitler, if you can credit it. Young love can be so, so very complicated. Don’t you think?”

Bucky felt this was the understatement of his lifetime.

“Minnie, can you clean me up enough that Steve will know we’re still mates?”

“Yes, dear, I certainly can. However, have you considered telling him? Not using magic that could harm the bond?”

“Yeah, I did consider, considered it from all sides. The problem there, is that when they transformed him they gave him an alpha side, too. It made him hell to defeat on the battlefield and really hardheaded when it came to me. We had an awful time trying to figure out why we both went into protective mode, then got mad as hell when there wasn’t nobody who wanted protectin.’ We’d calm down and swear we’d get back to normal after the war. You know, we even talked about a pup? But now, I don’t know if the world is ready to let Captain America have a pup with ANYBODY, let alone Public Enemy Number One. He recognized me and tried to stop me hurting him, but when he could smell, uh, smell the other mark, all the fight just clean left him. I think he wanted to die.” He looked at her mark. “Is yours different because you’re a wizard?”

Minerva enjoyed listening to him talk about Steve. His accent got broader, he sounded like he should, to her way of thinking.

“No, James, only because it was a platonic bond. I don’t think many Muggles do platonic bonds anymore.”

“Nah. I’ve not seen a one. Well, if you think we can fix me up, I’d sure like to try.”

She nodded and playfully tapped him on the chest. “Just remember I can send you straight to the ceiling if I need to! All right. I’m sorry, but for me to see the strands I want to burn away, they will all need to remain connected to you. You will feel this burning. If it feels like I’m burning away something you want to keep, you must tell me immediately. Are you ready?

He laid back with his head on the pillow. “More than ready.”

Minerva took a deep breath, and silently wished like anything Albus could be here right now. Her wand settled over the marks on James. She pulled several strands out of the mark and teased them apart. The first, the one which smelled so strongly of that soap, she gently coiled and returned to his mark. She gave the coil a tap, and James smiled. This coil clearly belonged there and it was a relief to have it clean and under his skin as it should be. The next strand smelled like extremely expensive cologne. This one was wrong. Minerva guessed that the cologne was also a pheromone blocker, and maybe even a potion. She whispered “Legilimens _”_ and the moment the strand connected with Pierce in James’ mind, she snarled “Diffindo!”

The strand was cut precisely and began to burn up towards the mark, until the sealed end left a small scorch mark. Minerva was unnerved to see James lean _into_ the pain. This was a man who could endure extreme, extreme physical conditioning. She had fully charmed the room for silence in anticipation of terrible screams. That they did not come was more awful.

The next three strands were murky and clouded. She took no chances, she severed each and watched them burn. Her patient was giving off the scent of an alpha in battle. He liked to feel the dark spells being destroyed. The next strand was blue. She whispered “Legilimens” and tried to see what thought was connected to it. She couldn’t. It was blank. How could she not read this or trace its origins?

“James, please tell me what you feel right now.”

“Cryo. Cryo. Cryo. Cryo. Cryo.”

Oh good lord, this was not bonded to him, this was a strand of magic they must have implanted to make him submit to being frozen, allow himself to freeze yet not die. She could sense nothing because in cryo he could sense nothing. Those evil bastards had put spells on him when he was frozen. He could never know his own mind, his own memories, they implanted magic while he was defenseless.

“DIFFINDO!” The thought was severed and she watched the blue strands go up in a cloud of snowflakes. She flicked her wand and uttered a quick “Vermillious Duo!” James smiled as a burst of red sparks shot electricity through the ice and melted everything away into warm water.

At last, she had reached the only remaining bond strand that was locked into the mark. She gave it a quick sniff. She couldn’t tell if it was good, or bad. She coiled it up and lifted it into the air. James sat up. He buried his face in strand and inhaled. He started to cry as the scent became stronger in the air around them.

“I haven’t smelled this for so long. So long. I thought it was gone. I couldn’t ever smell it, I thought it was gone. It’s not. It’s not gone, Minnie! Thank you, thank you, yes, we keep this one. Please.” She coiled the strand and laid it back into his bond mark. It nestled there, next to soap and charcoal pencils. She still couldn’t scent anything. It must have been part of the mark that only the mated pair knew.

James suddenly looked exhausted. She patted him on the head and said, “James, there’s only one thing left to do, now. You drift off, my dear. When you wake up everything will be so much better.”

He gently slipped off to sleep, his mind clearer than it had been since he had met her. The last thing he felt before he began to dream was a tissue pressed around his neck.

Minerva gave the tissue to the owl in the corner, and sent her off to do the bidding of her mistress.

**

Minerva washed her face again, and had another cup of tea. She took one last look at the bed and then closed the door so the sitting area was separated from the bedroom. It was gratifying to see Uncle James at peace. She had left the window open for her owl, Bettina. When Bettina came back in, she hooted softly and presented her neck feathers to be stroked. Minerva understood the tissue had been delivered. The open window had diffused the other scents. She wanted to make this as easy as she could for Steve. She trusted he would be here soon.

She was not disappointed. She smelled the sweat of a man running at tremendous speed long before he made it to the door of her suite. It was an exotic, not unpleasant, blend of omega desire for his alpha and an alpha desire to punish anything or anyone that prevented that. Minerva could see how Captain America must have been exceedingly easy to follow. She had known one man who could be all things to all people. They were exceptionally rare, but the good ones could undo generations of darkness if allowed to. She opened the door about four seconds before he had decided to knock. The overwhelming scent of his anxiety was too much.

Well, she thought, he was certainly handsome enough for her beloved Uncle James. He was staring at the open door, clutching the tissue. He had absolutely no idea what was happening.

“Hello, Captain Rogers. You don’t know me. My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I have been helping…”

“Bucky? I can smell Bucky. He’s here, isn’t he? Please, please, tell me he’s here. I can smell him. Are you family? You smell of his pack. Please, ma’am. Please tell me how you came by this tissue?”

She gave him her best withering look. “Captain, in time, James can explain to you how we are related if he chooses to. For the moment, all you need to know is that if you rush in there and startle him, I have the magical ability to plaster you to my ceiling. You should be able to smell your mate’s hair cream in the plaster if you have the temerity to doubt me.”

Steve’s wide eyes were payment enough. She grabbed him by the hand and moved him towards the door. She opened it, and Steve’s knees buckled when he saw Bucky curled on the bed. Steve ran into the room and buried his nose into Bucky’s neck, whimpering as he scented the man he had missed for so, so long. James opened his eyes and brought his hand up to Steve’s hair.

“Hey, punk, where ya been?” He was leaning into Steve, smelling everything right in the entire world. Charcoal, Lifebuoy soap, the leaves of the evergreen cork oaks, Lucky Strikes… and pancakes. Steve could smell the pancakes, the tighter they held on to each other the more Bucky’s scent prevailed. Steve could smell _Bucky._ It wasn’t the painful burn of ice crystals and expensive cologne. He smelled like his alpha. The smells of the Howling Commandos. His mate’s unmistakable smell of Brylcreem, baseball stadium peanuts, the alpha pheromones he had tried and tried to ignore until at last they knew they would always love each other as long as the other would let them. And pancakes.

“Buck, did, did you, you choose,” he lost the rest in a sob.

“No, Stevie. I would never, ever choose another mate. I was bonded against my will. I saw your face when you smelled it. I wanted to die. I was ready to give it up forever because you thought I bonded with someone else. I swear it was against my will, Stevie. Come here, come here.” He moved back on the bed and gathered his mate in his arms. He curled his face into Steve’s making certain his mate could smell nothing but comfort.

The sliver of light cast over them disappeared as Minnie closed the door.

She whispered a packing spell and her belongings gathered themselves into her trunk. She took Bettina’s cage and quietly slipped out of the suite. All that remained was her note.

_Dear Uncle James,_

_You can’t know how difficult it has been in the wizarding world the last fifteen years. We were shrouded by a darkness that grew unabated and threatened to consume my school, my friends, everything I could see._

_I know now, seeing you again, that I was terribly myopic. Of course we suffered terribly. But so did the non-Magical population. When I finally looked through news of the Muggle world and read of the Battle of New York, who Steve was, who you were, I know I can never say ‘I’m sorry’ enough times. I should have looked for you harder, Uncle James. Uncle Falsworth would have been right to never forgive my selfishness. If we have achieved enough together today, I do hope you’ll come to see me in England. Perhaps at Christmas, when we have the most delectable treacle tarts imaginable. Maybe Steve will join you, if you would both like that._

_We are forever family, James. I wish you a lifetime of health and love._

_Your darling,_

_Minnie_

 

As Steve and Bucky laid in bed enveloped by the night they began to kiss, remove their clothes, whisper desires and gently make love. Minerva McGonagall stood on the corner of Lafayette Square to set her next course.

“Bettina, I got cheated out of my chance to be a flower girl. To Fresno, I think.”

 

 

 


End file.
